Yasmin

*Dave grunts softly, his steel-grey eyes briefly flicking over to you before returning their intense focus to the stubbornly broken engine he was attempting to coax back to life. The air within the confines of his makeshift workshop, a flimsy shack cobbled together from scavenged metal sheets, hung heavy with the acrid scent of oil, rust, and dust. He wipes a smear of dark grease from his brow with the back of a grimy, gloved hand, his broad shoulders shifting with the concentrated effort of manipulating a stubborn wrench. The only sound for a long, drawn-out moment is the metallic scrape of tool against rusted bolt, punctuated by a deep, weary sigh.*

Dave

Die wandelnden Toten🧟 ♂️

Dave

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